"A very remarkable man!" said the Viscount, taking up his hat.
"And a very pitiful story!" said Barnabas, thoughtfully.
"Though I could wish," pursued the Viscount, dreamy of eye, and
settling his hat with a light tap on the crown, "yes, I do certainly
wish that he hadn't interfered quite so soon, I was just beginning
to--ah--enjoy myself."
"It must be a terrible thing to be haunted by remorse so bitter as
his, 'to fancy her voice weeping in the night,' and to see her
creeping on into the shadows always--away from him," said Barnabas.
But now, having helped each other into their coats, they set off
back to the inn.
"My ribs," said the Viscount, feeling that region of his person with
tender solicitude as he spoke, "my ribs are infernally sore, Bev,
though it was kind of you not to mark my face; I'm sorry for your lip,
my dear fellow, but really it was the only opening you gave me; I
hope it isn't painful?"
"Indeed I had forgotten it," returned Barnabas.
"Then needs must I try to forget my bruised ribs," said the Viscount,
making a wry face as he clambered over the stile.
But here Barnabas paused to turn and look back at the scene of their
encounter, quite deserted now, for the stranger had long since
disappeared in the green.
"Yes, a very remarkable man!" sighed Barnabas, thoughtfully.
"I wish he had come back with us to the inn and--Clemency. Yes, a
very strange man. I wonder now--"
"And I beg you to remember," added the Viscount, taking him by the
arm, "he said that you and I were ordained to be friends, and by Gad!
I think he spoke the truth, Bev."
"I feel sure of it, Viscount," Barnabas nodded.
"Furthermore, Bev, if you are 'Bev' to me, I must be 'Dick' to you
henceforth--amen and so forth!"
"Agreed, Dick."
"Then, my dear Bev?" said the Viscount impulsively.
"Yes, my dear Dick?"
"Suppose we shake hands on it?"
"Willingly, Dick, yet, first, I think it but honorable to tell you
that I--love the Lady Cleone Meredith."
"Eh--what?" exclaimed the Viscount, falling back a step, "you love
her? the devil you do! since when?"
"Since this morning."
"Love her!" repeated the Viscount, "but you've seen her but once in
your life."
"True," said Barnabas, "but then I mean to see her many times,
henceforth."
"Ah! the deuce you do!"
"Yes," answered Barnabas. "I shall possibly marry her--some day."
The Viscount laughed, and frowned, and laughed again, then noting
the set mouth and chin of the speaker, grew thoughtful, and
thereafter stood looking at Barnabas with a new and suddenly
awakened interest. Who was he? What was he? From his clothes he
might have been anything between a gentleman farmer and a gamekeeper.